


the violet sheds

by afreezingnote



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e07 The Secret Sharer, Fix-It, Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Pre-Slash, The Sigil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afreezingnote/pseuds/afreezingnote
Summary: “Merlin!” Arthur made his name into a sharp warning. “I've had my heart broken enough already today. I don't want to lose another friend.”Arthur stood up briskly, aiming to put an end to the discussion, but Merlin spoke before he could.“Neither do I,” he said. “But if decades of loyal service can be swept aside so easily, what does that mean for the rest of us? I didn’t take you for the type of man to view his subjects as expendable.”“You know I’m not.”“Then prove it!” Merlin exclaimed.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), past Gwen/Arthur Pendragon
Comments: 41
Kudos: 180
Collections: Merlin Bingo, Merlin Holidays 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [howshouldipresume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/howshouldipresume/gifts).



> Written for Merlin Holidays 2020
> 
> I combined parts of my giftee's requests to form this prompt: Hurt/comfort fics with hurt!Merlin. I’m thinking emotional suffering of Merlin in S4/5 being addressed somehow. Could be any tone: angsty, light-hearted, etc. + The Sigil. That’s it, that’s the prompt. Any series of events that leads to it being Known or Addressed by others that Arthur gave Merlin his mother’s sigil.
> 
> I hope I've hit those notes satisfactorily here!
> 
> Though this story focuses on the events of The Secret Sharer, a few tweaks have been made to prior canon to make way for merthur. You'll notice dialogue taken from the episode as well as a few deleted scenes. See the end notes for links to the transcript and the extra footage referenced.
> 
> Many thanks to the folks from the Merlin Fic Book Club server on Discord who gave me advice along the way and to my two wonderful betas and brit-pickers, Lawless_bard and silvermyfanwy. Any mistakes left are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and make no profit from this work save fun. If this story appears anywhere other than Archive of Our Own, it has been reposted without my consent.

_“Forgiveness is the fragrance that  
_ _the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.”_ —Mark Twain

After discovering Gaius had fled the citadel, Arthur couldn’t sleep. The thought of Gaius joining the ranks of those who had abandoned him made him feel like he’d swallowed a stone, which nestled heavy and unyielding in his stomach.

Though he struggled to grasp how events had driven Morgana’s transformation into the person who he could only call an enemy, she had comprehensible motives for her betrayal: fear, resentment, and revenge. He wished he had gotten the chance to know her as a sister, but their father had robbed them both of that to the detriment of the kingdom.

He even understood Guinevere’s reasons for ending their courtship. Lancelot’s proximity after he had taken up residence in the castle had made it clear the two of them still had unresolved feelings for one another despite their years apart. He’d given her space to figure out her own desires, not wanting his affections or his status to press her.

Arthur had predicted the eventual conclusion of their romance the way he’d learned to judge the trajectory of an arrow as a boy. The signs had been plain. The way Gwen lit up in Lancelot’s presence, the ease of their companionship, and the intense pull between them made him jealous but not in the expected way. Arthur wanted that spark for himself. He felt strangely like what he had with Gwen was different somehow.

When Arthur and Gwen got the chance to spend time together, she switched between periods of the casual comfort they had forged together and self-conscious moments where she seemed guilty for letting herself enjoy his company. Arthur could feel them slipping further apart and had no idea how to stop it or even if he should.

By the time their party set off to the Isle of the Blessed to defeat the dorocha, Arthur had resigned himself to coming in second place to Lancelot though it had not yet been spoken. Gwen bid them both farewell though it seemed to him she lingered longer with Lancelot. It had ached a bit, but he told himself it was for the best. Arthur had planned to die for his kingdom, and he would rather have Guinevere prepared for happiness without him than leave her with nothing but grief.

Guinevere’s anguish had been palpable after their victorious homecoming with Lancelot’s empty cloak. She had articulated her final decision explicitly, six months ago now, with the air from the courtyard still wafting the scent of Lancelot’s funeral pyre into the hallways. 

_“I care for you, but I don't know if I can be with you. I can't be Queen. I'm a commoner. I know that doesn't matter to you, but it matters. To the kingdom. To the council. To the nobles. You will always belong more to Camelot than to me. I don't know how to live that way and be happy, and life is so short. I think—I think it would be better if we could return to being friends.”_

The idea of having a simpler life had remained after Lancelot’s death, and Arthur couldn’t blame Gwen for wanting that. If duty did not call him to shoulder the weight of the crown, he would be pleased to escape his burdens as well.

But Gaius had known him all his life. His arms had been the next to hold him after his mother and the midwife who had caught him as he entered the world. Grief over Ygraine’s passing had stricken Uther, and he only gathered himself enough to meet his son three days later.

Gaius’s chambers had offered refuge as he grew up. Gaius would put him to work grinding herbs when his exuberant energy after lessons overwhelmed his nurses. In his free daylight hours as a teen, he sought out Gaius’s company, which was often the closest thing he managed to solitude amid his courtly responsibilities. In that time together, Gaius had learned better than anyone how to coax him out of a temperamental funk with gross but fascinating details about patients or, on rare occasions, memories of his mother.  
  
All of that forsaken for what?

Merlin stood in the disarray left by the guards who had tossed the room. The scattered papers, broken glass, and emptied drawers added indignity to the sting of loss and the ebb of fear. He took a shuddering breath and began to comb for hints of the true events of the night. 

While Agravaine was at the top of Merlin’s list for suspicion, he wasn’t the only person who might wish misfortune on Gaius. Though unlikely, a patient or their relatives may have sought to punish the Court Physician for the outcome of a medical treatment. Or, like Edwin Muirden, someone may have come seeking retribution against Gaius for the events of The Purge.

Merlin’s inner turmoil made it difficult to focus, and his search proved directionless, providing no answers. He sighed as he righted a jar of salve. As Merlin turned to the next pile of Gaius’s disturbed possessions, he failed to suppress a yawn. He imagined Gaius admonishing him with familiar advice.

_“If you do not let your mind rest you will miss the important details, Merlin, and waste more time later making up for sloppy work. Better to approach such a task with fresh eyes.”_

Merlin knew Gaius was right. He squared his shoulders, stepped over the mess, and made his way up the stairs, planning to force himself to nap at least.

He’d eaten hurriedly earlier that evening, tucked in a corner of the kitchens, before rushing on to other duties. As he lay down, anxiety churned the food within his stomach into a roiling stew, and he thought his worry might drive him to reach for the chamber pot more than once. 

He tried to calm himself with deep breaths but couldn’t quiet the thoughts racing behind his eyes. Eventually, he let his imagination loose to play out a variety of dire situations: Gaius locked up and forgotten in a dank cell, Gaius strung up and tormented as Morgana had done to him not so long ago, Gaius injured brutally and left to cry for help that came too late, Gaius pale and lifeless. 

When his mind finally ran out of fresh scenarios, he made an oath to himself that whatever had befallen Gaius, he would find him and save him. It couldn’t be too late. Even as he repeated this assurance to himself, frustrated tears lulled him to sleep.

The evidence Agravaine provided gave an unwelcome answer to Arthur’s late night question. It rankled him that magic had taken away yet another person dear to him. Even though Gaius had chosen sorcery, Arthur didn’t have the heart to order him to be hunted. 

As soon as Agravaine left them alone, Merlin asked, “How can you believe this?” 

He made no effort to mask the hurt in his tone, and Arthur hesitated to respond, knowing Merlin viewed Gaius as a father. 

Attempting not to provoke him further, Arthur answered as sympathetically as he could. “I know how you must feel,” he said. “We questioned him. He's been consorting with sorcerers. He more or less admitted to it.”

“And that makes him a traitor?”

“Why run if you have nothing to hide?” Arthur asked.

“He's given his life to this kingdom,” Merlin said. “He would never betray you.”

“Then explain his actions,” Arthur implored.

Merlin looked at Arthur for the first time since they’d entered the council chamber. “Alright,” he said. His eyes, glistening wetly, held a challenge. “They're lies. Gaius would never run off in the night.”

“Look, I know it's hard,” Arthur said. His tone betrayed his frustration at Merlin’s dismissal of the facts before them. “But no break-ins were reported. His possessions are missing. A horse has been stolen.”

“He would not leave without saying goodbye to me,” Merlin protested, his voice unsteady. He looked away as emotion overwhelmed him. “Agravaine has made this story up.”

“I shall ignore that last comment.”

Arthur understood Merlin’s pain, but meeting one accusation with another helped nothing.

“Because he's your uncle, you will not see who he really is,” Merlin added anyway.

“Merlin!” Arthur made his name into a sharp warning. “I've had my heart broken enough already today. I don't want to lose another friend.”

Arthur stood up briskly, aiming to put an end to the discussion, but Merlin spoke before he could.

“Neither do I,” he said. “But if decades of loyal service can be swept aside so easily, what does that mean for the rest of us? I didn’t take you for the type of man to view his subjects as expendable.”

“You know I’m not.”

“Then prove it!” Merlin exclaimed. “If you will not be moved for Gaius’s sake, then do it in the name of thorough justice. Agravaine said that Gaius was seen riding away from the city. By who? Question the guards and confirm the account, at the very least. If he has nothing to hide, Agravaine should be happy to allow a search of his own rooms, as well, shouldn’t he?”

 _“Lord_ Agravaine,” Arthur said. He repeated the reminder offhandedly. Merlin’s flippant disregard for courtly courtesy would surely irk Agravaine’s more traditional sensibilities, and he didn’t want to deal with soothing raised hackles over something so pointless, especially when their unorthodox relationship had thus far escaped his uncle’s disapproval.

“As you say, my lord,” Merlin said, imbuing the title with a level of blankness that was somehow worse than the disdain he’d used in his first weeks of service.

He sketched a perfunctory bow and stalked out of the room.

Without meaning to, it seemed, Arthur had made a grave mistake. 

However, Merlin’s suggestions hadn't been unreasonable, and action would serve better than anything else to make amends. Arthur would find Leon and task him with corroborating the sighting of Gaius with the sentries who had been on duty last night.

Merlin stormed through the hallways with thoughtless familiarity, making his way toward the parts of the castle where no other servants had cause to venture. Listening to Agravaine lay out his contrived case against Gaius had sparked a discomfiting surge of fury and anguish within him, which struck at his heart with the similarity to his own secrets.

_“I am as disappointed as you, sire. Someone so close, so trusted. And it's not merely the discovery that he was a sorcerer, is it? It's—it's the lies. The lies and years of betrayal._

_“I know it's hard to believe, isn't it, sire? But we both saw him refuse to condemn magic. We both knew he was hiding something. And neither of us want to believe it, but—now, with this...hasty departure in the middle of the night? These are not the actions of an innocent man, sire. There can be no doubt. Gaius is the traitor.”_

It had been a masterful performance. Bitter as it was, Merlin could recognise the skill. Whereas Agravaine masked his duplicity with concern, commiseration, and counsel, Merlin covered his own deceptions with partial truths, ridiculous excuses, and foolish antics. Both methods worked like a charm to mislead Arthur.

As rage gave way to nauseated resignation, Merlin ducked into an alcove. He resisted the urge to gag on the roil of his emotions and brought his juddering breaths under control.

“Let him run,” Arthur had said. Would the same disappointed surrender be his reaction if he discovered Merlin’s magic? Or would Merlin be able to comport himself in a stalwart enough fashion to convince Arthur of his loyalty?

It was a futile train of thought, which Merlin dismissed as he always did when his musings lingered on what-ifs. He had more important considerations at hand. Agravaine’s insistence on Gaius’s guilt confirmed his own involvement. 

The task Agravaine had asked Merlin to perform the night before along with his usual duties had occupied Merlin’s evening. Due to the lateness of the request, he’d used a whetstone from the armoury to sharpen the gifted dagger so as not to disturb Arthur’s rest. The trek from the royal quarters and back again had wasted unnecessary time, conveniently keeping him away from the Physician’s Chambers during the time of the kidnapping, which had certainly been Agravaine’s intent.

This knowledge made Arthur’s reproof for failing to address Agravaine with the proper courtesy all the more galling. Usually, Merlin’s status as a servant didn’t bother him much, but having his station leveraged so nefariously rancored him.

Merlin didn’t know if his own comments would persuade Arthur to scrutinise the evidence against Gaius. Well, Merlin thought, he would have to dig into the matter on his own. As soon as his chores and discretion allowed, he would inspect Agravaine’s chambers himself.

Preoccupation with his troubled thoughts left Arthur sitting in front of a meal he’d picked at half-heartedly. He still hadn’t decided how to approach searching Agravaine’s chambers. He wondered if it would be too grave an insult to his uncle to enter his room with guards or if it would be better to go to him on his own. A knock at the door interrupted his rumination.

“Enter,” he called.

Leon stepped into the room. “I questioned the sentries as you asked, sire,” he said. “None of the men on duty last night saw Gaius, and the Captain of the Guard claims that no such report was made to Lord Agravaine. I’ve asked them to relay anything out of the ordinary to me immediately.”

“That is ill news indeed,” Arthur said. He stood and buckled on his sword belt. “If my uncle means to deflect his own guilt with this deception, we must find further proof. Come with me.”

Leon kept pace with him as he made his way to Agravaine’s chambers. Arthur berated himself for dallying over niceties as they walked. He only hoped no irreparable damage resulted from his inaction.

Agravaine’s rooms were empty when they arrived, and a cursory search revealed nothing untoward. 

As Arthur crouched to look under the bed, he noticed a slightly off-colored patch on the floor, a section where some of the tiles had been scrubbed while the surrounding area had not, which marked it as an effort to hide something rather than the work of a chambermaid. He inspected the edges of the clean spot and detected a smudge of dirt. He swiped his finger through it and examined it, finding it too red and too pungent to belong to the local soil.

“Look at this,” Arthur said. Leon bent to peer at his proffered hand. “Iron ore.”

“That can only be from the mines at Chemary,” Leon said. He canted his head to the left, and Arthur followed his gaze as Leon asked, “What’s that there?”

Arthur pulled a wooden chest from beneath the bed, and slid one of his concealed daggers from his boot. “Let’s find out.” He jammed the blade under the lid next to the lock, forcing it open. Several books lay inside. Each of them, like the ones Arthur had perused that morning, were texts on magic.

A stab of sorrow pierced Arthur, and he swallowed against the sudden urge to cry. What relief he felt at validating Gaius’s innocence paled in comparison to discovering treason committed by his own blood. All the family he had ever known had lied to him or discarded him. Was there no one he could trust to remain loyal? 

Arthur sighed. He clenched his jaw for a moment and willed himself to push his emotions aside. 

“Merlin was right. Gaius has likely been abducted,” Arthur said. He stood and pivoted toward the doorway. “We must find where Agravaine has gone.”

A harried guard met them in the hallway. “Sire, Captain Osric wishes to inform you that Lord Agravaine has departed the citadel.”

“How long ago was this?” Arthur asked.

“About half a candlemark, my lord.” The guard paused. “Your servant and Sir Gwaine were seen riding away only minutes before him, if that may also be counted as odd, sire.”

Arthur nodded, dismissed the guard, and instructed Leon to retrieve Elyan and Percival. “Tell them we ride immediately,” he said.

The pace Merlin and Gwaine set as they left the citadel wore on their mounts. Their initial speed would come to nought if they exhausted the horses, so they had to stop periodically to let them rest and drink.

After some quick foraging during the first break in their journey, Gwaine started a fire and combined his modest harvest with trail rations to make a basic stew. 

Merlin had no appetite and couldn’t keep himself still to enjoy the warmth of the flames either. He wandered toward the horses as they grazed and leaned against a tree.  
  
“We’ll find him,” Gwaine said a few minutes later. 

Merlin cast a grateful glance at his companion. “I won’t forget this,” he promised.

“I haven’t done anything,” Gwaine said.

Merlin disagreed. Gwaine had been there, offering his support and assistance even when Merlin had greeted his efforts with scepticism and short temper. “One day, I’ll repay the favor,” he said.

“Considering the trouble I get into,” Gwaine said as he stood and made his way over to Merlin, “that could prove to be a rash promise.”

Merlin laughed. “Pull,” he remarked, borrowing a piece of slang coined by the knights to shoot down a bad joke with the same command used to loose a crossbow bolt. 

“Gaius is like a father to you, isn’t he?” Gwaine asked.

“The only father I ever really had.”

Meeting Balinor and learning of his lineage had given Merlin closure, but he hadn’t had the chance to build a deep relationship with his father. Gaius had filled the void of his missing paternal figure with patience, affection, and wisdom. He hated to admit it, but time and shared struggles had brought him closer to Gaius than he was even with his own mother.

“You’re lucky, Merlin. I wish I had somebody like him.”

Merlin snuffed the fire, breaking the somber tension of the moment. “We need to keep going,” he said.  
  
Gwaine agreed readily, and they got on the move again.

The road brought them to a wide track following a tributary of the River of Brechfa. They stopped to water the horses again before crossing into Ascetir. 

Gwaine took the opportunity to refill their waterskins while Merlin peered pensively into the eddies twirling in the river. This time, Merlin broke the silence with a query he’d mulled over as they rode.

“Tell me something, Gwaine,” Merlin said. He tucked one arm under the other and didn’t look up from the water. “If you did have someone like Gaius, would it be fair to say you would use all the resources available to you to find him? Even if those means lay outside the law?”

The tinkle of mail sounded as Gwaine rose. He studied Merlin’s profile for a moment, but didn’t hesitate over his answer. “Aye, I shouldn’t let anything stop me.”

“Then I hope, if you see anything that surprises you, you will not judge me too harshly,” Merlin said. 

The words were a confession, and the sharp, surprised gasp from Gwaine told Merlin he understood the implication. For all that he should be nervous, Merlin’s worry for Gaius left none for himself. He waited with grim resolve for a response.

“You mean like a sturdy tree branch collapsing beneath enemy archers or a crossbow bolt that changes course in midair? Maybe like rocks shifting under bandits’ feet or plates flying across a tavern?” Gwaine asked. He laid a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “I’ve been your man from the start, Merlin, and I will be until the end.”

Merlin let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“Thank you,” Merlin said. He blinked, trying to gather himself. Such a blatant declaration of loyalty had bowled him over. “Gwaine, thank you.”

Gwaine smiled, squeezed Merlin’s shoulder, and gestured toward the horses now nosing at grass a few feet from the riverbank. “Shall we continue?”

Tracking Agravaine had led Arthur and his knights on divergent paths. Elyan and Percival had gone after the prints of the lone rider while Arthur and Leon followed behind Merlin and Gwaine toward Chemary.

They had ridden through the night, and the two pairs met up again as the forest thinned around the road descending to the arch of the ridge. There were horses already tied ahead of them. 

While they dismounted, Elyan explained that Agravaine’s trail had detoured to a hovel in the Valley of the Fallen Kings where another person on horseback had joined him on a path converging here.

“This might be the one missing from the stables,” Leon said, motioning to the white horse next to Agravaine’s mount.

“It could be, but I’d swear…” Arthur trailed off as he walked toward the horse. As he scanned the patterns lightly discernable in the animal’s coat, he finished his thought in a murmur, “...this is Taranai.”

The mare whickered as Arthur stepped in front of her. Taranai had a patch of black above her right forefoot, which was large enough to notice but not prominent enough to qualify as a sock. And there was the same mark on this horse.

“It is you, Taranai,” Arthur said softly.

The mare nickered again, responding to her name, and nudged Arthur companionably. She had been one of Uther’s gifts to Morgana for her coming of age. Her presence here along with the additional confirmation of Agravaine’s dubious activities left an uneasy feeling in his gut.  
  
“It seems Morgana is here,” Arthur announced. “We must be wary.”

After entering the mines, the group came upon a fork in the main passage. Elyan and Percival took the tunnel to the right while Leon and Arthur went left. The stone shaft carried the distorted sound of conversation back to their ears. As they drew closer, he could distinguish the voices as belonging to Gwaine and his uncle.

“Then how did you know he was here?” Gwaine asked.

“Guards at the western gate saw you and Merlin leave,” Agravaine said. “Knowing Merlin's concern for Gaius, I thought it must be some new information at hand. So, I just followed your trail.”  
  
Arthur stepped into the open cavern with Leon right behind him. Seeing the tip of Gwaine’s sword trained on Agravaine’s throat inspired a jolt of protectiveness that he crushed with ruthless deftness. A hint of shame followed it and he wondered at his own weakness. Where righteous fury ought to fill him, Arthur felt only a gulf of coldness inside. 

“That’s a lie, uncle,” he said. 

A flash of surprise graced Gwaine’s features. Arthur couldn’t tell whether the expression came from their unexpected arrival, the accusation, or both.

“Merlin found iron ore in the citadel before we left, sire,” Gwaine said. “He wouldn’t say where. That’s how we knew to come here.”

As he spoke, Gwaine’s sword hand drifted marginally with his shift in attention. Agravaine took the opportunity to drop his dagger and go for his sword.

“Don’t think about it,” Arthur cautioned. He had his own sword drawn before Agravaine had his blade halfway out of the scabbard. Wisely, Agravaine resheathed his weapon and held his hands up placatingly. “I discovered a trace of iron ore myself in Agravaine’s chambers along with a chest full of books on sorcery. Care to explain, uncle?”

Some part of Arthur hoped Agravaine might find a way to clear the circumstances up, proving his own innocence along with absolving Gaius and allowing him to keep both men in his life. But wishful thinking wouldn’t preserve Camelot. 

Agravaine opened his mouth, scrambling for excuses, but nothing came to him. 

His speechlessness, contrary to his usual silver tongue, ignited a spark of anger in Arthur at last. “Oh, don’t bother,” he scoffed. “You framed Gaius neatly, but you’ve shown your hand. Now, you’re going to pass your sword belt to Gwaine slowly, and hold out your hands.”

With a pinched expression, Agravaine complied.

Leon lifted a pair of shackles out of the satchel draped over his shoulders and stepped forward to fasten the manacles on Agravaine’s wrists. The metallic click as the cuffs closed resounded within the space.

Arthur imagined that apprehending a traitor to the realm should come with a more substantial sense of vindication, but he mostly felt sick with disappointment.

Following the path to the right brought Merlin to a dead end and trouble. Morgana's threats had done nothing to rattle him, but he wasn’t sure how to escape this standoff without using magic. He observed the conversation between Morgana and Alator, vigilant and wary, learning that the robed man had tortured Gaius for information on Emrys.

Knowing his secret had engendered pain for Gaius stoked the wrath already simmering within him.

Alator confirmed he had uncovered the identity of Emrys and walked toward Merlin with a shrewd glint in his eyes. Confusion dimmed the anticipation on Morgana’s face as she took a tiny, halting step after him. Her eagerness told Merlin that she was afraid.

 _Good,_ Merlin thought as he tracked Alator’s movements. _She should fear me._

Merlin wanted to stop this charade. He wanted to unleash the full force of his power, but he knew it would be reckless. If he revealed himself to Morgana now, he would have to kill her. All that stayed him was the thought that any wasted time could mean death for Gaius. He couldn’t afford to act rashly now.

Alator crouched beside him, and Merlin met his eyes, hoping that his ire and contempt shone through his deliberate composure.

“Not only do I know who Emrys is,” Alator said, “I know exactly where he is.”

“Then tell me,” Morgana urged.

Alator looked over his shoulder to meet her yearning gaze. “Never,” he said. He stood, raised his staff, and took aim at Morgana. “Forþ fleoge!”  
  
Morgana screamed as the spell launched her against the cavern wall, and the knife at Merlin’s throat dropped to the ground with a magical swish and a thunk as she lost consciousness.

Merlin scrambled to his feet and whirled to face Alator. He kept his body turned away, presenting a smaller target.

“Merlin, I am Alator of the Catha,” he said. His tone displayed a befuddling earnestness. “I am honoured to be of service.”

“You have magic!” Instinctive distrust from years of defending his home and loved ones from other sorcerers mingled with surprise, turning the remark into an accusation. 

Alator nodded before he continued, “I understand the burden you carry. I have lived with it all my life. I have been shunned, persecuted, and sometimes even hunted in every corner of the five kingdoms. I understand what that feels like. You're not alone.” Alator paused briefly, emphasising the sentiment. 

Merlin recognised the sincerity of his words. The desperate drive for connection, the thirst for empathy, shared by sorcerers couldn’t be mistaken or faked, not among their own kind.

“From what Gaius told me, I do not have your great powers, Merlin, but I share your hopes. For I, and others like me, have dreamt of the world you seek to build. And we would gladly give our lives to help you do it,” Alator vowed.

Alator knelt with his head bowed, granting Merlin obeisance like a king.

Merlin exhaled shakily. His shoulders sagged as the tension began to seep away. “Why should I trust you after what you’ve done to Gaius?” he asked.

Alator inclined his head but didn’t rise. “I have wronged you,” he said. “Know that I will answer if you call on me, and I will do whatever I can to atone.”

Merlin opened his mouth, meaning to exhort Alator up, but the scuffle of approaching footsteps drew his attention away. He listened, alert to any danger, until a familiar voice dissipated the suspense.

“Watch where you’re sticking that torch, Elyan,” Percival said.

Merlin sighed. “I know them,” he said. “Stay here. I’ll head them off.”

“Emrys, remember my name,” Alator said. He stood at last. “Remember my pledge.”

“I will, Alator of the Catha,” Merlin said. 

Alator edged out of sight of the passage as Merlin strode toward it. He didn’t glance down at Morgana’s prone form as he left. Leaving her behind tore at his conscience. On one hand, failing to apprehend Camelot’s principal enemy in a vulnerable position felt like a dereliction of duty. On the other, the ghost of their friendship and guilt over the harm he had inflicted on her begged a show of mercy. Victory against a High Priestess would be impossible to explain, in any case. And Camelot could not hold Morgana after capture, not without the help of magic, so it didn’t matter in the end.

Merlin had only walked a few feet when the knights rounded the bend in front of him.

“Merlin!” Elyan greeted. “You haven’t found Gaius yet either?”  
  
“No,” Merlin said. “Dead end. What are you two doing here?”

“Arthur realised that you were right,” Percival said as he and Elyan turned back the way they had come.

Elyan explained the events of the night from their perspective, and Merlin absorbed the tale with half his mind directed inward. The fact that Arthur had heard him, pursued a proper investigation of the evidence against Gaius, and discovered Agravaine’s treason went a long way to temper his vexation with his king. Merlin didn’t mean to let Arthur off the hook for treating Gaius like the contents of a chamber pot just yet, but he worried for them both. 

How was Gaius fairing after enduring Alator’s interrogation? How was Arthur holding up knowing that the one remaining member of his family had betrayed him? 

Merlin rubbed his thumb over smooth, warm metal as they retraced their steps to the entrance of the mines. As his thoughts drifted to Alator’s show of allegiance, he noted the object in his hand—the Du Bois family sigil Arthur had gifted him in the ruins of Daobeth. Merlin hadn’t realised he’d drawn the medallion out of the pouch he carried on his belt next to his bag of coin. 

Fiddling with the sigil had become an absent habit. He kept it with him because it felt wrong to leave something so precious in his room unattended and because it reminded him of Arthur’s regard. Merlin didn’t understand what had prompted Arthur to give him such an intimate gift, though he had often pondered over the reason and harbored secret hopes for Arthur’s intentions. In the months since he’d received it, he had taken to tracing the edge with his fingers whenever he mulled over a problem or lost himself in his cares.

They stopped as they came to the main fork in the tunnels.  
  
“Should we search that way or check if the others have succeeded?” Percival asked.

“I’d say check outside first,” Elyan said. “What do you think, Merlin?”

“I agree. If the others are gone, we’ll be wasting time.”

Merlin blinked against the wash of sunlight as they exited the mines. Once his eyes adjusted, he noticed that someone had fetched his mare from the edge of the trees and draped Gaius in front of his saddle. He was peripherally aware of other people and horses close by, but seeing that dear form narrowed his focus, blocking out everything except relief and concern.  
  
So, he didn’t detect the body hurtling toward him until the collision.

At the sound of crunching rock, Arthur marked as Elyan and Percival emerged from the mines with Merlin between them. They hesitated in front of the rough doorway to shake off the dim.

Merlin must have spotted Gaius because he started forward first with purposeful steps. As Arthur moved to meet him, wanting to offer Merlin an apology and support, Agravaine broke free from Leon’s hold and lunged at Merlin. 

Agravaine drove his shoulder into Merlin’s chest and snarled, “Morgana was right about you, you interfering little weasel.”

The impact knocked Merlin off his feet, his body jarring as he hit the dirt. A small item flew out of his hand and rolled a few feet from where Merlin had sprawled. 

Gwaine and Leon grabbed Agravaine and hauled him backwards while Arthur helped Merlin up.

“Alright, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“I’ve had worse,” Merlin replied tersely, still understandably tense and still sore with Arthur. 

When Arthur twisted to scowl at Agravaine, a warning on the tip of his tongue, the sight of his uncle’s eyes riveted on the ground brought him up short. Following the line of Agravaine’s gaze, he saw a familiar object laying in the dirt.

Merlin scooped the medallion up and brushed it off with careful fingers before slipping it into a pouch on his belt. 

Learning that Merlin cherished the token enough to carry it with him touched a tender place inside Arthur that had felt raw since Guinevere had broken their courtship.

“You’ve given him my sister’s sigil? You’ve _claimed_ this insolent serving boy?” Agravaine asked. His voice journeyed from disbelief to dripping venom. “How dare you disgrace our family’s name?”

“It is mine to give, uncle, and I believe him worthy,” Arthur said. “Merlin is more than a servant to me. I trust him with my life, and I have every right to offer my protection to those dearest to me.”

Agravaine huffed. Though he said no more, the hostile curl of his lip communicated volumes. The weight of his eyes hung on Arthur as he followed Merlin to his mare. 

While Merlin examined Gaius, Arthur contemplated what he wanted to say and gathered the will to begin. Much as he’d rather not wrangle with emotional topics, Merlin deserved his sincere regrets and he meant to deliver them coherently. 

Whatever words he’d settled on got lost when Arthur saw a thin trickle of red below Merlin’s ear and a wet patch in his hair. Arthur reached to still Merlin and get a better look, but Merlin ducked away.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Let me check Gaius. You can fret when I’m finished.”

Arthur had done an assessment as he’d been taught to do when out in the field with no medical assistance. “He doesn’t appear to have any physical injuries,” he said.

“You’re not a physician, my lord.”

“No, but I’m not an idiot.”

Merlin chuckled. “No,” he agreed. “Just a prat.”

Behind them, Agravaine barked a laugh. He now sat astride his own mount with his reins tied to Leon’s horse. He looked down at Arthur with derision. “Morgana wasted so much time worrying over your relationship with her lady’s maid when this scrawny boy has had your heart all along,” Agravaine drawled. “I wonder, do you find some special appeal in commoners, or do you just have a preference for servants?”

Merlin bristled beside him and spun on his heel to fix Agravaine with a glower. 

Arthur clapped a restraining hand on Merlin’s arm, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop his retort.

“I wonder why you betrayed your nephew, your own blood, for Morgana. I’ve long known you for the snake you are, but I’ve never understood that.” Merlin tilted his head, insouciant as ever, and squinted at Agravaine. “Is it because you found her beautiful? Did you think you could help her win a kingdom, and she’d fall into your arms in gratitude?”

Agravaine’s sour expression told them Merlin was hitting near the mark.

Merlin made a scornful sound. “I can’t decide if that’s more foolish or pathetic,” he said. “You know she won’t come for you, right?” 

“You don’t know your place, boy,” Agravaine sputtered.

“At least I know where to put my loyalties.”

“Merlin, enough,” Arthur said. His lips quirked in a smile in spite of the censure. A wave of fondness had risen in him to see Merlin defend him even while upset with him.

“It isn’t, but I’ll stop,” Merlin said. “We don’t have time for this anyway.”

Anger stood out in every line of Merlin's body as he pulled a bandage from his supplies before swinging gently into his saddle, jostling Gaius as little as possible. 

“How is he?” Arthur asked.

Merlin pressed the bandage to the back of his head. “He’s in a bad way,” he said, “but if his fever doesn’t worsen before we return to the castle, I think he’ll pull through.”

“Good.”

Arthur turned to the others to verify all was in readiness for travel before going to his horse. He regarded the stone ridge that seemed to frown above them, matching the mood of the group, as they departed.

Journeying back to Camelot had gone as smoothly as could be expected with an ailing patient and a prisoner in their party. Agravaine had made one escape attempt, throwing himself off his horse and running. Unfortunately for Agravaine, Elyan proved swifter. His efforts to scarper earned him the honour of completing the trip unconscious and trussed to his horse.

Merlin thought it less than he deserved.

Entering the courtyard led to a flurry of motion. People milled about gawking as stablehands came forward moments before a pair of guards responded to a hand signal from Leon. 

Percival and Gwaine helped Merlin lower Gaius from his mare.

“Go ahead and get things ready,” Gwaine said. “We’ll carry him.”

Merlin nodded. As he sprinted toward the Physician’s Chambers, he glimpsed Agravaine’s attempt to mask his chagrin with a poor veneer of haughtiness while the guards escorted him to the dungeons.

Percival and Gwaine hovered and offered their assistance after situating Gaius on his cot. Merlin assured them he could handle the necessary treatments. He knew they meant well, but the best thing he could do for Gaius included incanting healing magic. 

After a moment, Gwaine seemed to pick up on the idea. He raised an eyebrow in question. At Merlin’s subtle nod, he led Percival out with well wishes and a promise to stop by later.

The gold had scarcely receded from his eyes when Gwen burst through the door. 

“I came as soon as I saw,” she said. “How can I help?”

Merlin surveyed his work. Gaius’s skin had lost its clamminess, but mundane methods would aid his spell as well. He grabbed a pain relief tincture from the store of common potions.

“Help me hold his head up,” Merlin said.

Gwen knelt by the cot and supported Gaius’s neck as Merlin tipped the liquid into his mouth, massaging Gaius’s throat to ensure he swallowed the medicine.

“We need to get his temperature down,” Merlin said. “Could you cut some cloth strips while I prepare a fever remedy?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Gwen.”

Gwen had taken to helping Gaius with a frequency that Merlin knew eased Gaius’s workload in a way he rarely managed while balancing the tasks required of him as Arthur’s servant. At this point, she was just as much a physician’s assistant as he was. With two pairs of competent hands, the work went quickly, and soon enough there was nothing to do but wait.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, but Gwen read him well enough to notice when his musings grew restive. 

“What’s on your mind?” Gwen asked.

He had been replaying Arthur’s words from that morning, wondering how much it was safe to read into them. He hesitated over his answer, reluctant to discuss his feelings about Arthur with her lest it become a sore spot in their friendship, but decided to explain what had happened with the revelation of the sigil.

“I wish I knew what Arthur meant by it,” Merlin said.

“A token like that can mean a few things.”

"I figured as much. He said something about offering his protection."

“Yes,” Gwen said. She rested her chin on her hand and rolled a small pestle along the edge of its mortar. “If you happened to be accosted, you could show the sigil to your attackers to prove you’re worth a ransom. But the most common reason for a royal to make a gift of anything bearing a family seal is to declare their affection. When did he give this to you?"

"When we were traveling to the Isle of the Blessed to stop the dorocha."

Gwen hummed and let the pestle go as she straightened. "Did he now," she remarked.

Merlin ducked his head. "I'm sorry."

Gwen reached out to squeeze his hand. "You're not responsible for Arthur's actions. We were both conflicted, it seems. It's telling that, when facing death, he gave you this."

"Yeah," Merlin said.

"He never gave me anything similar, much as we cared for one another. I think it means what you hope for,” Gwen said. She settled back into her former position with her head supported on her arm. “I had wondered, you know, if the two of you had been lovers before he started courting me."

Merlin stared at her askance. "We weren't."

Gwen rolled her eyes at his incredulity. "Don't give me that rubbish, Merlin Hunithson,” she said. “You know as much gossip as anyone. You have to have some idea of how the two of you look from the outside. He's the king, and you touch him and speak to him so freely. And he lets you. It's—"  
  
“Inappropriate?” Merlin supplied.

“Not traditional,” Gwen said, opting for a more diplomatic conclusion.

"Did you just give me a last name to—to scold me?"

"I did. No one in the kingdom loves him like you do. He'd be a fool not to see it and even Arthur's not that dense."

"If you say so, Gwen Tomdaughter."

They laughed, and their shared mirth was a welcome sound after the stress of the last couple of days.

"That really doesn't work, does it?" Merlin asked. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and dropped it to cover his mouth as a yawn escaped him.

"No, it doesn't,” Gwen said. “Go get some sleep, Merlin. I'll watch over him."

Merlin woke before dawn. Even with the early start, it was hours later than he had planned to rise. He dressed hastily and came downstairs to find Gwen stirring bits of apple into two bowls of porridge.

“Good morning,” Gwen said. “Gaius’s sleep turned peaceful a couple of hours ago. I’d say it’s likely he’ll wake on his own soon.”

Merlin drifted over to see Gaius for himself, not doubting Gwen’s assessment but wanting extra reassurance that all was well. “Has his temperature stayed down through the night?” he asked.

“Yes,” Gwen confirmed.

“Excellent.” He turned from Gaius’s cot to fix Gwen with a reproving squint. “You didn’t switch shifts,” Merlin chided.

Gwen cast an unimpressed and unrepentant glance at him as she slid one of the bowls over to the place across from her at the table. “You needed the rest more than I did.” When he made to argue, she cut him off. “You take care of everyone, Merlin. I want to do my part to help take care of you. Let me.”

Merlin sat and accepted the spoon she handed him. “Thank you, Gwen,” he said. “I’ll tell the steward you’re away on business for the Court Physician for the morning, so you can go home and get some sleep.”

“Tempting as that is, I’m afraid I’d slumber the day away,” Gwen said.

“You could always pay Clara’s girl a coin to make sure you get up on time.”

Gwen laughed. “She’s certainly a noisy enough thing for the job.”

After Gwen departed following their shared breakfast, Merlin did the dishes by hand for want of anything else to do. His eyes fell on the withering, semi-dried bouquet he’d gathered on a whim the last time he had gone out to fetch staple remedy ingredients. With little more than a thought, his magic reached out to revive the flowers. 

The blooms brightened the room as well as his mood. Gaius was on the mend. Agravaine was arrested and Morgana thwarted for the time being. Arthur would need support now more than ever, but they had weathered worse storms together, and Merlin had every confidence that this time would be no different.

Merlin breathed in the familiar scent of books and herbs, overshadowed slightly by the sweet fragrance of violets, and let himself enjoy the peaceful moment. He had started humming when he heard the cot creak.

“Merlin, my boy, what’s happened?” Gaius asked. 

Though his voice was rough, it was music to Merlin’s ears. “Gaius, welcome back!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, there's more!
> 
> This chapter fulfills my Merlin Bingo prompt "Fix-It" (I3).

The somber ride from Chemary and the night that followed gave Arthur plenty of time to think. 

He tried to concentrate on practical matters—the meetings, the paperwork, and the orders he would have to handle as a result of Agravaine’s treason, but he had dealt with the bureaucracy of the kingdom long enough that there wasn’t much to consider. His own insecurities and his uncle’s scornful declaration echoed in his mind.

_ “Morgana wasted so much time worrying over your relationship with her lady’s maid when this scrawny boy has had your heart all along.” _

He dismissed the tone but dwelled on the words, recognising them for truth. If he were being honest, Arthur had known he harbored romantic feelings for Merlin for a long time and had felt attraction to him even longer. He had ignored both developments with ready obstinance. 

Arthur considered what he had adored most in Guinevere: her bravery, her strong beliefs, her willingness to stand up to him when he behaved beneath his honour. Those same characteristics had drawn him to Merlin in the first place. The realisation rattled him. Had his affection for her been a deflection to a safer outlet? He hated himself a little that it might be so.

In hindsight, he understood that the rocky beginning to his friendship with Gwaine had stemmed from jealousy over his closeness with Merlin. He had tried to tell himself that Gwaine’s irreverent demeanor irritated him. That was nonsense. Gwaine’s antics amused him as much as anyone else so long as he wasn’t left with an outrageous tavern bill. Once he’d concluded that the bond between Merlin and Gwaine allowed for playful flirtation without romantic intent, Arthur had gotten on with Gwaine splendidly.

If Gwaine had shown genuine interest in Merlin, could he have tolerated watching Gwaine court Merlin as he had with Guinevere and Lancelot?  _ No _ , Arthur thought with swift sureness. The idea of Merlin in another man’s arms was abhorrent.

Imagining Merlin tucked under his arm asleep, on the other hand, inspired a yearning so acute it ached. Arthur let that image draw him into fanciful musing about Merlin waking up beside him. The familiar, teasing glint in Merlin’s eyes morphed easily into a heated, suggestive expression, which preceded the brush of his soft lips and the promise of more.

He wanted Merlin without question. But did Merlin desire him in return? Did Arthur dare risk their relationship to discover the answer?

When he could tear his thoughts away from his heart troubles, he deliberated over what he wanted to say to Gaius and to Agravaine. He knew both exchanges would exhaust him, but the details of these conversations sorted themselves into orderly lists of facts and questions, which he could tackle head-on. 

Arthur swept off the covers and went to his wardrobe. He would go to the cells and confront Agravaine now. 

Arthur knew both of the guards sitting at the table next the entrance to the dungeons. Rulf had retired from active duty as a knight after an injury impaired his mobility, but he had once taught Arthur everything he knew about wielding a quarterstaff. The other, Egbert, was a younger man whose family had wanted a second knighthood for their house. His decision to work as a guard to have more time for the scholarly pursuits he thrived on had estranged him from his father.

“My lord,” Rulf greeted. “Will you be wanting the keys?”

Egbert straightened as he spoke, looking up guiltily from a book.

“That won’t be necessary,” Arthur said.

“Would you like a stool, sire?” Egbert asked.

“Yes. Thank you, Egbert.”

Egbert followed him down the passageway carrying the stool, which he set down with a deliberate clatter, startling Agravaine awake.

“His Majesty the King is here to see you,” Egbert announced. He bowed, turned smartly, and swept back down the hall.

Agravaine sat up slowly. “Arthur,” he said. “What do you want?”

Arthur searched his uncle’s countenance for a hint of the man he had come to know over the course of the last year but found familiarity only on the surface. “I want to know why,” he said finally.

“My reasons are my own.”

"You're my mother's brother, my blood. I trusted you completely. I welcomed you into my home, and I've esteemed your support without reservation,” Arthur said. His father had stringently prepared him for the idea that people would seek to use his power for themselves. But family shouldn’t behave that way. “Do I not even credit enough for an explanation?"

Agravaine shifted on the bench, settling in to ignore him. 

Arthur kept his mien just as stony and decided to go for a provocation that had already yielded results. “Maybe Merlin was right,” he said. “Did you truly betray me because you desire my sister?”

"You're the reason my sister is dead," Agravaine snapped. His eyes flashed with spleen, his customary pleasantness abandoned entirely.

_ At last, you show me your true face, _ Arthur thought.

The remark had been meant to wound, but it was nothing Arthur had not believed before, nothing that his own father hadn’t made him feel with his silences and disapproval. "I know,” Arthur said. “If I could have chosen, it wouldn't have happened."

Agravaine laughed bitterly. “Well, your father made that choice for everyone."

"What do you mean?"

"Morgana told me what Morgause showed you,” Agravaine said. “You know what I mean."

For a moment, Arthur didn’t understand what he was referring to, but once he remembered, dread crept up inside him, flooding his stomach and twining around his heart. "That was an illusion, a trick," he said, denying the implication.

He recalled the ethereal spectre of his mother. He only recognised her from a sketch he had stolen from a locked room and, of course, their shared features. He could never forget holding his sword to his father’s throat with the intent to kill.

"No,” Agravaine said fiercely. He stood, venting his agitation by pacing the cell. “No, you had the opportunity to do right by your mother, and you squandered it. You were so desperate to believe in your father that you never even bothered to try to verify the truth one way or another. You Pendragons are all the same."

"Morgana is a Pendragon too,” Arthur retorted. It was, perhaps, a childish reaction, but gods it irked him that people constantly judged him for his name rather than his actions.

Agravaine had nothing to say to that in any case.

Arthur took a measured breath, willing himself to stay calm. “Even after everything, I don't want you to die. I will have you exiled instead, if you tell us what you know about her," he added.

"I will never betray Morgana," Agravaine said, turning his back to Arthur.

Arthur sighed. “You have a day to consider it. Alert the guards if you change your mind.”

Arthur paused outside the Physician’s Chambers, knocking before slipping inside. Merlin and Gaius were both looking at him as he closed the door.

“I think I owe both of you an apology,” Arthur said.

“Not to me,” Merlin said. He looked back at his mentor. “To Gaius.”

“To you both,” Arthur repeated. “We’ll talk later, Merlin. Will you give us a moment?”

“Does that mean I get the morning off?” Merlin asked.

It seemed, from the teasing lilt in his voice, he had decided to forgive Arthur. Gaius smiled at Merlin’s tone, and it warmed Arthur to see that as well.

“Yes, I’m sure it was a long night,” Arthur said. “Attend me at dinner, but take the rest of the day for yourself.”

Merlin stood. When he turned, the scrunched eyebrow and narrowed eyes communicated his suspicion. “You’re serious?”

“It’s been a rough couple of days for us all. It’s the least I can do.”

A tiny, genuine smile graced Merlin’s face. “Thank you, Arthur.”

Their gaze suspended the sincere moment between them for a little longer than necessary, and Arthur noticed, as he often did, the vivacious sparkle in Merlin’s eyes and the curve of his full bottom lip. Merlin had filled out in the last year, yet he managed to be as pretty as ever.

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement as Merlin passed him. As he came further into the room, Arthur asked, “Are you all right?”

“I'm just glad it's all over,” Gaius said.

“I made a mistake,” Arthur confessed.

“I've looked after you since you were a nurseling, Arthur,” Gaius said. “You should've known I love you far too much ever to betray you.”

Gaius spoke with more kindness than he deserved. Still, the candid reminder of their history lanced Arthur’s heart. Shame, guilt, and trepidation for the questions he meant to ask clamoured within him. He had to avert his eyes in order to keep composure.

“Gaius, will you tell me what happened?” Arthur asked. “Were you given any indication of why you were taken?”

“Agravaine believes I have information Morgana wants,” Gaius said.

Arthur recognised that, just has he had when Agravaine questioned him, Gaius had chosen his phrasing carefully.

“And do you?” Arthur asked.

“Yes.”

“Did she get it?”

Gaius shook his head. “Morgana got nothing from me,” he said.

The satisfaction in his voice made Arthur chuckle, but the levity was short-lived. He couldn’t comprehend Gaius’s reticence. He sighed and moved to sit on the bench Merlin had vacated, laying a hand on Gaius’s wrist.

“I’m glad,” Arthur said and meant it. He leaned forward, hoping that Gaius would not lie to his face. “But there's a matter that still concerns me. When you were asked about the sorcerer who killed my father...you lied.”

Gaius nodded. “I did, sire.”

“You admit it?”

“I chose to protect him. I feared you would seek him out and execute him. That would've been a grave mistake,” Gaius said. His words flowed with earnest certainty. “The sorcerer did not kill your father. Uther was dying. He tried everything in his power to save him, and he might have succeeded without Morgana’s interference.”

Arthur straightened up, confused. “Morgana’s interference?”

Gaius nodded again. “Beside the locked cabinet, there’s a box. Inside you’ll find a small bag. Get it for me, please, sire.”   
  
In the years since childhood, Gaius’s system of organisation hadn’t changed a wit. Arthur found the box with no trouble. The bag inside looked much the same as a pouch for coin but was only a third of their average size. He took it, went back to the bench, and held up the bag for Gaius to see.

“Within there, you’ll find the means of Morgana’s involvement,” Gaius said. He waited until Arthur had dumped the contents in his hand, revealing a silver necklace boasting a charm with intricate knotwork, before he continued. “I discovered that pendant around your father’s neck after his passing. It bears an enchantment intended to reverse the effects of healing magic. It ensnared the sorcerer’s spell and used its power to deliver a killing blow when it should have done the opposite.”

Arthur’s head snapped up. “Why did you not tell me this?” he demanded. 

Arthur felt tension coil in his limbs, but rather than preparing for movement, the sensation held him in place. The idea that he hadn’t committed an unforgivable transgression in resorting to magic staggered him. The old sorcerer had been betrayed as well, his ability misused. He might have been just as distraught as Arthur had been considering the bargain he had placed on the outcome of the cure… 

The epiphany loomed too great in his mind. There was not enough time to grapple with his thoughts in the midst of their conversation, so Gaius’s words were a welcome distraction from the task.

“Aside from Agravaine, Merlin and I were the only people you had confided in about your wish to seek out a magical cure. Only we three would have had the opportunity to put the pendant in place. We had no evidence to accuse Agravaine of such a crime,” Gaius said.

For a time, Arthur didn’t respond as he tried to process these revelations. The subtle rise and fall of his chest was all that distinguished him from a statue in his stillness. Finally, he scrubbed a hand across his forehead, exhaling heavily. “You would have implicated yourselves if you tried,” Arthur said.

“Yes, sire,” Gaius agreed. “And in court, the word of commoners, even those most trusted, cannot stand against the king’s uncle without overwhelming proof.”

Arthur bit his lip. Commenting on the injustice of the court would be an empty sentiment, especially when he was guilty of falling into the same, familiar prejudices of station as well in spite of multiple relationships he had that discounted the stereotypes. 

Instead, he reflected on the other point Gaius raised: Agravaine’s deserved punishment. “I offered him clemency for information on Morgana,” Arthur said. He plucked an empty vial from the tabletop behind him and rolled it between his palms. “Exile instead of the block. But he is an accomplice to regicide on top of his treason. I cannot spare him now.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur.”

Gaius reached over to pat his arm sympathetically. Arthur mustered a tight smile at the gesture. He studied the repetitive twirl of the bottle in his hands, not wanting to broach the next topic weighing on his mind. Several minutes passed before he managed to steel himself to speak.

“There is another thing I must know,” Arthur said. 

Delaying any longer served no one, least of all himself. When it came to information about his mother, he had lived in doubt and yearning and hope throughout his whole life. He set the vial down, and his restless fingers busied themselves with tapping on the bench. “The truth of my birth. Agravaine implied the vision Morgause showed me was true. Is it?”

Gaius pursued his lips, perturbed. “I swore to your father I would never divulge that information,” he said.

“He isn’t here—”

Gaius raised a conciliatory hand. “I know, Arthur. I know. You deserve to have the truth,” he said. “I cannot speak to what Morgause showed you, but I can confirm your father made a deal with Nimueh to ensure an heir using magic.”   
  
“Did he know the cost?” Arthur asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and toyed with the fabric of his sleeve.

“He knew that the Old Religion requires balance. Nimueh and I both warned him that creating one life would mean ending another. We could not sway him. None of us knew it would be Ygraine who paid the price, and I don’t believe your father ever imagined it as a possibility until it was too late.” Gaius sighed. “By then, it was too late for many things.”

Arthur could imagine the things Gaius lamented well. He pictured the courtyard dotted with pyres, the castle windows obscured with haze from the fires, servants choking on the smoke as they traversed the hallways. He never forgot the sound of screams from the burnings he’d witnessed, but the onset of The Great Purge must have multiplied the pitch and the horror by magnitudes. 

Arthur dragged a hand through his hair and stood. He picked up the vial again as he circled around the table and began pacing the patch of floor behind it in short, quick strides.

“Then everything I accused him of that day was true,” he said. He steps neither slowed nor faltered. “He condemned countless people to death because he could not accept his own guilt. He had our knights—had me—slaughter innocents.”

“I’m afraid so, sire,” Gaius said. 

Arthur stopped short and twisted on his heel to peer directly at Gaius from across the room. The churning tempest in his mind let another certainty surface and solidify. “You were reluctant to endorse our laws on magic because you knew them to be unjust. And I have perpetuated my father’s prejudice,” he said. “I don’t know how to right this wrong.”

“You must be willing to listen and learn,” Gaius said. “And change.”

Arthur nodded and resumed pacing once more. As frustration swelled within him, his fist tightened on the vial in his hand until the pressure ached. The glass would surely leave imprints in his skin. “No one has been willing to tell me the truth up to now,” he said. “If I am so—so disappointing, so frightening, whatever I am—who will guide me where no one else has?”

“Come sit down and listen to me, Arthur,” Gaius said. 

Arthur did as he bid without protest. He relinquished the bottle again, flexing his fingers as he retook his seat at the bench. He wasted the effort to work out the ache from his tight grip, clenching his hands atop his knees as he settled into a rigid posture.

Gaius fixed him with a serious gaze. He’d seen that look dozens of times. Next to his father, no one conveyed the gravity of a moment with the set of his eyebrows like Gaius.

“Contained within this great kingdom is a rich variety of people with a range of different beliefs. There are many who believe you are trying to create a better world and are waiting to help you do it. Already, there are some who have been working unseen to aid you, to protect you,” Gaius said. “One day you will learn, Arthur. One day you will understand just how much they've done for you. Until that time comes, I promise I will help you any way I can.”

As he listened, Arthur shifted, propping one elbow on his knee and leaning against his hand. His fingers curled in front of his mouth and pressed into his lips. The more Gaius talked, the more questions launched to the tip of his tongue, but now was not the time to ask them. He’d heard far more than he had expected to learn already today.

“Thank you, Gaius. Your honest counsel means a great deal to me,” Arthur said. He rolled the seam of his tunic between his thumb and forefinger as he collected his thoughts. “I don’t know where to begin. I cannot imagine lifting the ban without any restrictions. Magic may not be the evil I have been raised to believe, but I have still seen it used to great harm.”

“As long as you have lived, the sorcerers who have openly used magic in Camelot have done so for the sake of vengeance. Because of this, you have seen the worst of what magic can do, but I agree that limitations will be necessary to ensure safety. When I am rested, I will seek out what information I can to assist you.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “I suspect I have much to learn. I’ve disturbed you long enough for one day, I think, and I have much to consider.”

After Merlin had served Arthur dinner, he started cleaning here and there around Arthur’s chambers. While puttering through chores, Merlin noticed Arthur had stopped eating. Upon closer inspection, he saw that Arthur had shuffled his food around the plate but consumed little.

“Has the ham gone off?” Merlin asked.

“What?” Arthur asked.

The delay between his reply and the turning of his head told Merlin that Arthur’s thoughts had been far away.

“Would you like me to fetch you something different to eat, sire?” Merlin asked.

“No,” Arthur said. He pushed his plate away and took a gulp of wine. “I’m too troubled to have much appetite.”

Arthur rarely admitted his cares so freely. “Do you want to talk about it?” Merlin asked.

“I do want to talk to you,” Arthur said. “Come sit with me.” 

Merlin crossed the room and took the chair at Arthur’s right hand.

Arthur balanced his fork against the edge of his plate. “I regret dismissing your doubts about my uncle the way I did,” he said. “Justice should not favor any suspect over another because of their station or relationship to the crown. The inquiries you suggested should have taken place regardless. My conduct was not befitting a king or a friend. I’m sorry.”

Merlin nodded. He wasn’t angry with Arthur anymore and hadn’t anticipated an apology beyond the rare day off he’d already been granted, which made Arthur’s sincere words all the more touching. “The evidence Agravaine set before you was convincing,” he conceded. 

“Yet you were not taken by it. Apparently, there is much I haven’t seen clearly,” Arthur said. “Gaius and I had an illuminating chat earlier.”

Once he’d established Gaius’s improved health after he woke, Merlin had convinced Gaius to tell Arthur about Agravaine planting Morgana’s enchanted necklace on Uther, so he had expected the news. “Oh, yeah?” he asked. “What about?”

“He told me the truth of my father’s death and of my birth,” Arthur said.

_ Oh, _ Merlin thought, stunned. Revealing Uther’s deal with Nimueh for Arthur’s life hadn’t been part of the plan. And that meant Arthur knew.  _ He knew _ what his father had done.

Merlin’s heartbeat quickened. “He did?”

Arthur hummed in affirmation and explained the information Gaius had relayed. “As you can imagine, I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything else all day,” he said.

“That’s a lot to take in at once,” Merlin said carefully. 

In spite of his own apprehension over where the conversation might lead, he knew Arthur well enough to discern that, while the subject of magic had surely inspired a slew of confused musings, he had dwelled on the web of deception and harm woven by his family.

“You’re not to blame for their choices. Your father, Agravaine, Morgana, they all walked their paths with their eyes open. Their actions don't reflect on who you are.”

“Do they not? It cannot say anything good about me that I’m—” Arthur interrupted himself with a frustrated sigh and buried his face in his hands.

“That you’re what?” Merlin challenged. “Kind, honest, brave?”

Arthur lifted his head long enough to shoot him an incredulous glance. “Foolish, naive, easily discarded,” he countered. 

“No. One of the most critical aspects of a leader is what motivates them. Uther was driven by grief and guilt, Agravaine by grief and vengeance, and Morgana by fear and vengeance. You champion justice, equality, and mercy. You have the courage and fortitude to see your ideals through, and those qualities are why your people are loyal. Experience will come with time, and you will prevail to see Camelot flourish.”

“I can’t fathom where your conviction comes from, Merlin.”

“Faith,” Merlin said. “I know you will be the greatest king this land will ever know. I wish I could give you a piece of my belief to show you how much you deserve it.”

“You do,” Arthur said. He trailed two fingers along the back of Merlin’s hand. “Somehow, you do.”

Outwardly, Merlin tried not to let on how flustered the fleeting caress had left him. “I’m glad,” he said. “Now then, are you going to eat any of that, or should I take back the tray?”

“I’m finished.”

Merlin left Arthur sitting at the table with his chin propped on his hands and a pensive absence glazing his eyes. When he returned from the kitchens, Arthur had moved to sit in front of the fire. He started on the customary evening chores and went to gather Arthur’s nightclothes from the wardrobe.

“Leave that. Join me again,” Arthur said, breaking the comfortable silence. He gestured toward the chair beside him. “There’s something else I would ask you.”

Merlin detoured to drape the garments he’d selected over the changing screen before accepting the invitation to sit.

“I know magic’s not a topic easily broached in Camelot, but I think it would help me wrap my mind around it all to hear other people’s thoughts,” Arthur said. “I’ve wondered about your opinion, Merlin. Your friend, Will, had magic. What was it like growing up with a sorcerer?” 

Inevitable as this line of questioning was after all Arthur had learned today, Merlin thought he’d escaped broaching the topic of magic personally for the evening at least. The part of him that had always heeded advice to keep his secret warred with the part of him that wanted to be seen, to be wholly known by the man before him. In the back of his mind, oft repeated words of warning flitted frantically. He dismissed each remembered urge for caution, silencing the voices of Gaius, his mother, and Kilgharrah. 

Arthur had taken his first steps toward understanding magic at last. No better time than now could come for him to be honest. His nerves had him reaching for the pouch hanging from his belt. Instead of answering Arthur, he replied with a question of his own. “Did you mean what you told Agravaine yesterday?”

“Every word.”

Merlin bit his bottom lip and nodded solemnly, relinquishing the last vestige of his indecision as he twisted in his chair to face Arthur fully.

“I trust you with my life as well, so I’m going to trust you with the truth,” Merlin said. “It’s an unfair burden to lay at your feet considering what you’re already facing, but I fear if I don’t go through with it now, I’ll lose my courage.”

“Merlin, what—”

Merlin cut Arthur off, not able to withhold the words for another moment. “Will was never a sorcerer, and the only one Gaius associates with is me.”   
  
Arthur’s brow furrowed, and his eyes searched Merlin’s face as if to find the tell of a jest. “You’re not a sorcerer, Merlin,” he said firmly. “You’re not. I would know.”

Merlin didn’t let his gaze waver as he reiterated, “I am.”

Arthur shook his head minutely and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Gaius showed me proof that Morgana interfered when that sorcerer tried to save my father. He obviously knows the old man. Who is he that you would both protect him?”

“You said yourself that his eyes looked familiar,” Merlin said. He squeezed the solid weight of the sigil inside the fabric before loosening the ties.

“Are you saying—”

“It was me. The old man was a disguise, an aging spell.”

“Show me.”

Merlin examined Arthur’s expression, hoping to find and follow the trail of his thoughts in his face. For once, he found Arthur unreadable. Unerringly, his thumb found the edge of the medallion in his palm and pressed down hard. “I need a potion to change back, and I don’t think Gaius is up to brewing it just now,” he explained.

“Then do something else.”

Merlin straightened and motioned toward the open room. “What would you like to see?” he asked. 

Arthur had no chance to respond before Merlin added, “Should I call the wind like I did in Ealdor?” 

Arthur felt the shift in the air before he swung around to look for the proof of Merlin’s magic. The canopy fringe above the bed began to flutter, and the drapes drawn back to each bedpost unfurled, billowing as if in a high breeze. Shocked disbelief prompted Arthur to glance at the window to find the sill shut.

The fabric had yet to settle when Merlin spoke again. 

“Or command fire?”

The torches, doused in their sconces since morning, abruptly blazed with light. 

“Or earth.”

Merlin flicked his fingers and Arthur’s washing basin levitated from the dressing table to land beside the goblet sitting between them. Merlin turned back toward him to study the simple bowl. A few seconds later, his eyes shimmered with gold more brilliant than any of the finery Arthur had ever seen. He watched the color fade from Merlin’s irises with his mouth agape, forgetting, for a moment, to wonder what he had done with his magic. He looked down at the bowl. Just below the rim, an etched pattern of interlocking squares stood out where there once had been smooth clay. 

“Or maybe water.”

With a soft slosh, water swirled in the bowl, materialising from nowhere Arthur could trace. As suddenly as it appeared, the water solidified, freezing like a river in the dead of winter. Again, Arthur caught the flash of molten gold in Merlin’s eyes and a wisp of steam wafted between them from the water in the basin, which now verged on boiling.

The series of magical demonstrations had come so rapidly, hardly a minute must have passed, leaving Arthur flabbergasted. He felt as if he had taken two steps out of his body and, observing from this new angle, discovered that nothing of the world made sense.

Could the powerful fey creature sitting beside him really be his Merlin? Merlin who had strolled into his life with a cavalier challenge and reshaped his reality, inserting himself into Arthur’s existence so fundamentally as to serve as a keystone. Was the Merlin he knew a fiction he had created to meet his own needs kindled by false friendship and lies? Had he built his foundation on a mirage?

The pain of living at odds with Morgana had receded to a dull ache. Arthur now welcomed the idea of maintaining a platonic friendship with Guinevere. He had braced himself against the possibility of Gaius abandoning him. He would, eventually, learn to bear Agravaine’s betrayal. But Merlin would be a loss he could not weather.

Confusion and dread choked him, making his voice hoarse as he said, “I don’t understand.”

“Elemental magic was my first language,” Merlin said. “I could speak it in the cradle before I ever learned words.”

A strained bark of laughter pushed its way up Arthur’s throat. “That doesn’t explain anything,” he said. He stood and gripped the back of his chair. His knuckles were white with tension. “If you can do all that, what could possibly keep you here of all places? Why would you agree to save my father when—the ban. You bargained to end the magic ban in exchange for his life. Has all of this been for that?”

Merlin’s eyes went wide and his head jerked in automatic denial.

"No, Arthur! I did it for you. I—I admit it was cruel of me to put you in that position, but you expected a cantankerous old man. I played the part. The opportunity was there, and I took it because I was arrogant. I was so sure I could save him, but I never anticipated what Morgana would do. I should have.” Merlin’s lip curled downwards contritely. His voice cracked as he continued, “I should have, and I’m so sorry.” 

Arthur watched Merlin’s expression morph from earnest to remorseful. His ingrained suspicion of sorcerers grappled with his desire to accept Merlin’s apparent sincerity. Not knowing which inclination to follow left his heart and mind adrift, and the restless itch crept upon him again, driving him to pace. 

Merlin stood as he walked to the window but moved no further. Arthur ignored the weight of Merlin’s eyes tracking the agitated steps he took until a fraught and expectant silence smothered the room. 

“Why should I believe that when you’ve been lying to me for years?” Arthur asked at last, bitterness coloring his tone.

A spark of temper flared in Merlin’s eyes. “I lied because I had to! This is Camelot, in case you forgot, where my existence is punishable by death,” Merlin seethed, not quite shouting, which underscored his vehemence all the more. As he went on, his raised voice became more subdued with each word. “I’ve never forgotten. I don’t have that luxury. Don’t you see I’m laying my life in your hands?”

Images of Merlin with his head in a noose and standing on a platform with flames licking up his legs flashed through Arthur’s mind, leaving him stricken and stopping him in his tracks. Where anger had driven his pulse to quicken moments before, fear kept it heightened now. He would not see Merlin dead. Not for anything. 

“I do see,” Arthur exhaled.    
  
One of Merlin’s feet faltered forward before he seemed to steel himself, stepping toward Arthur with all the caution of a man approaching a frightened animal. He stopped farther away than either of them usually would have. The empty space gaped as large as a gulf between them.

“I wanted to tell you. I almost did in Ealdor, and I had planned to after your coronation. But after the way Uther died, that was impossible,” Merlin said. He tilted his hand palm upward. “I’m telling you now because I do trust you, and though I don’t understand why you gave this to me, I want to be worthy of it.”

Merlin held Ygraine's sigil in his hand. Arthur had given Merlin the medallion in a moment of clarity. Facing certain death allowed him to admit, without doubt, what Merlin meant to him.

He could use some of that clarity now. 

“Just wait, please. I need a minute,” Arthur said. He blew out a weary breath. “I need a drink.” He stalked over to the table, drained his goblet, and filled it again. Leaning forward, he braced himself with his palms splayed flat on either side of the chalice. Arthur didn’t know what to say or how to approach Merlin’s admission. His head hung over the wine. He peered into the crimson pool as he searched for words, but the depths held no answers. “All of this is overwhelming. Right now, I can't respond in a way that's fair to us both. Does that make sense?”

“Of course.”

“I need some time to think,” Arthur said. His inflection had switched to commanding when he spoke again. “Tell the steward to clear my schedule for tomorrow and take the day off. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Merlin appeared as enervated as he felt as he made his way to the door. Arthur couldn’t let him leave without adding certain reassurances. As with his apology, he owed Merlin that as a friend and a king.

“Merlin.”

Hearing his name, Merlin paused.

“I mean it. I want to talk more. And listen,” Arthur promised. “You have no need to fear for your life or your home. No matter how upset I may be, I would never wish you harm.”

Some of the tension ebbed out of Merlin’s frame before he looked over his shoulder and nodded.

Merlin stepped out of Arthur’s chambers not knowing what to do with himself. While his confession had not gone as wrong as some of the scenarios he’d imagined through the years, the stress had him feeling jittery. He forced himself to move, and murmured a farewell to the guards standing vigil at the end of the hall as he passed.

Instead of heading home, Merlin took the turn leading to the Knight’s Wing and stopped outside Gwaine’s door. He hesitated, debating on going back the way he’d come and holing up alone in his room to nurse his anxieties rather than disturb his friend. He heaved a mental shrug. Spontaneity had brought him this far. He might as well see it through.

Seconds after Merlin knocked, Gwaine cracked the door open and peered through the slit. Upon seeing Merlin, he grinned. “Merlin! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Can I come in?” Merlin asked.

“Of course.”

Merlin crossed into the room and stood with his arms wrapped around his chest.

Gwaine looked him over and his expression pinched at what he saw. “What is it?” he asked.

“I told Arthur.”

“You told Arthur?” Gwaine repeated, confused. Just as the words passed his lips, his face slackened with understanding. “You’re mad, Merlin. Absolutely starkers, but you’ve got more balls than a whole company of knights.”

Merlin snorted. “If that were true, I’d have done it a long time ago.”

“We’re not running for the stables, so I guess it wasn’t a disaster,” Gwaine said. “How are you?” 

“It went better than it ought to have gone, really,” Merlin said. He scuffed at the floor with the toe of his boot. “He’s dealing with a lot. The last thing he needed was to find out his best friend has been lying to him for five years on top of the rest.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know.” Merlin took a deep breath. When he exhaled, all his contained emotions came shuddering out too. He let his arms fall to his sides and found his hands were trembling. “I don’t know,” he repeated.

Silent tears streaked down Merlin’s face. 

Gwaine opened his arms in welcome. “Come here.”

Merlin let Gwaine enfold him in a tight hug.

“How can I help?” Gwaine asked. “Normally, I’d suggest drowning your sorrows, but I don’t think that’s really your thing.”

Merlin laughed, the sound garbled through his tears. “No, magic responds to emotion. Getting me drunk would be a disaster with the state I’m in.” Merlin sighed and pulled away, dabbing the moisture off his cheeks with the point of his neckerchief. “Can we just talk? Tell me a story from before we met,” he suggested.

“Alright,” Gwaine agreed. “Then we should get comfortable, yeah?”

Gwaine spun one of the chairs at his table around, pushed it in front of the fireplace, and gestured for Merlin to sit.

“I’ll make us something better than we’d get at the tavern,” Gwaine said as he fetched a pot and ladle from a cupboard by the door. He took them to the table and began to measure out water and wine with a goblet, mindful of Merlin’s need for sobriety. “I learned the perfect recipe for spiced wine from an innkeeper’s daughter in Nemeth. The baker in the lower town introduced me to a merchant who makes sachets just the way I like with grains of paradise, cloves, and ginger. I always get a box when he comes to the city.”

He kept up a stream of small talk until wine was ready. After handing Merlin a cup, Gwaine settled in the other chair with his feet kicked up on the table’s edge. “One time in Dyfed, I met a merchant who claimed to have a map to a great hidden fortune…”

Merlin closed his eyes and listened, letting Gwaine’s voice wash over him. By the time Gwaine broke the middle of a sentence with a yawn, he’d cajoled several bouts of laughter out of Merlin.

“But perhaps that’s a tale for another night,” Gwaine said. He slipped his heels off the table and stretched. “Alright, Merlin?”

“Much better,” Merlin said. The tightness in his chest had loosened into genuine relaxation through the course of the evening. “Thank you.”

Gwaine took Merlin’s long-empty goblet and set it next to his own as Merlin rose. “My door is always open,” he said. “You know that.”

“I do.”

“You better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about the chapter count - I have the "?" up because I'm not sure if I'll end up with 3 or 4 chapters when I'm finished, but there's a definite conclusion in sight. Similarly, the rating and tags will shift as more is added. Depending on what the boys want to do when we get to the love confessions, there may or may not be explicit material.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Feedback would be appreciated and just might fuel faster chapter updates. I hope you've enjoyed the story so far and will join me the rest of the way!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome. If you'd like any additional tags included or spot any errors, please let me know, and I'll update asap.
> 
> I used [The Secret Sharer transcript](https://merlin.fandom.com/wiki/Transcript:The_Secret_Sharer) for the canon dialogue found in this fic. The deleted scenes used in the story include the one where [Arthur gives Merlin his mother's sigil](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jP7Q1nOjQZo), the one where [Gwaine and Merlin discuss father figures](https://youtu.be/-1ToAn9q_jQ?t=42), and [Alator's farewell](https://youtu.be/-1ToAn9q_jQ?t=115).


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